


incendiary

by renvember



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Female My Unit | Byleth, Multi, miss byleth goes crimson flower then verdant wind, mostly made for my wlw who played for edelgard, no byleth romance during the academy phase but everyone has a crush on her bc i think thats funny, then wanted to see what the fuss abt claude was about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renvember/pseuds/renvember
Summary: Claude’s good at misdirection. That’s just the basics of scheming: keep the attention off yourself, look smaller than you are, etcetera, etcetera. Reflection of attention is a children’s game. But, shit, the Professor knows how to play it.Or Byleth dies at Crimson Flower and Sothis overshoots the divine pulse, and they're back in White Clouds. But there is a war to avoid now, and Byleth figures if they can play their cards right, they can avoid the worst of it.
Relationships: (past), Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, background hildamari - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this one is for me and the niche of my wlw who saw edelgard and went :heart_eyes: and then wanted to see why the homies stanned claude so much. this is skipped to garland moon (the month of the lonato chapter) bc im sick of how long white clouds is and figured i'd just cut it short. 
> 
> i've been working on this fic for a little under a year now, so i have a bit of a buffer for chapter updates so this will be updated pretty regularly. that also means my writing style changes a lot but i hope you can stick with me :')
> 
> shout out to my best friend and beta, evie who you can find @i-eatcommasfor-breakfast on tumblr. love you so much king

_When all that is done, it will be just the two of us. I look forward to starting our life together in the light of a glorious new dawn._

* * *

Garland Moon

* * *

Claude’s good at misdirection. That’s just the basics of scheming: keep the attention off yourself, look smaller than you are, etcetera, etcetera. Reflection of attention is a children’s game. But, shit, the Professor knows how to play it. 

She knows something! But he can’t figure it out! It’s infuriating beyond _words_. Ever since the mock battle, the Professor has been staring at Edelgard at every passing but avoiding her like the plague. Something bitter in her gaze, but the Professor didn’t even face Edelgard during that first battle together. It baffles him! He’s missing some pivotal piece and Hilda could care less about his despair.

“Sleepover nights are for _gossip_ , Claude,” she says, exasperated. 

He’s leaned up against her bed while she braids his hair from above. “It is gossip! Professor gossip!”

“It’s _boring_ gossip,” She tugs a little too hard on his hair as she pulls it back. She amends herself. “Boy gossip, then,” He can hear the teasing lilt to her voice, “I saw you talking to Dimitri the other day in the dining hall.”

“We’re both house leaders! That’s how it works!” And he doesn’t whine, because Claude von Riegan does not whine. 

“Of course,” He can hear the smirk in her voice. “How about Dorothea, then?”

“Why are you just listing _names_ now?” Claude scoffs in an effort to derail Hilda. “Can a man not just _talk_ with someone pretty?”

“Oh, they’re _pretty_ , are they?” Her smugness is almost palpable.

He sputters but then takes a moment to think before Hilda can derail his thoughts again. Very well. Two can play at this game. “But what about Marianne? You follow after her like some sort of –”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence, von Riegan,” She pulls on his hair again, but this time it makes him yelp in pain. 

“Hey! Can a man not just scheme about his professor in peace?”

“If you want to scheme about her, you’re on your own,” Hilda resumes braiding his hair, thankfully with much more care. “After seeing her during the bandit ambush, I want no part in whatever you have planned.”

Claude gasps in melodramatic shock. “Have the past few months been nothing to you? Hilda, I thought we had a lifelong bond.”

“It’s not a bond strong enough to be on the wrong side when you put laxatives in the Professor’s tea,” she says. 

Sensible enough, he supposes. The Professor would probably assign them to a group task – at the _least_ – as punishment, and he has spent more than enough time weeding the past few months. He lets the subject drop, and he and Hilda have a lovely night in, gossiping or information gathering, whatever you’d call it. That is, until curfew hits and the Professor finds them out and sends him back to his room. 

* * *

After over a year of empty silence, readjusting to Sothis’ constant dialogue is like putting on an old coat.

That is, it’s much too small, not nearly warm enough, and worth nothing more than a nostalgic trip. 

“How dare you!” Sothis scoffs at Byleth. “I practically died for you! And you’re still foolish enough to insult me?”

Byleth rolls her eyes and goes back to grading the Golden Deer’s practice work. Sothis makes an angry noise. “Only two months and you’re already back to your aloof self! What happened to the doting tactician? Sweet El’s –”

_You could help me grade, you know_. Byleth thinks. 

Sothis’ entire face screws up in distaste. “No thank you.”

Byleth shrugs and goes back to work. Barely a minute passes before Sothis is draped over her shoulders again, staring down at the desk with her chin resting on Byleth’s head. It’s notably more difficult to get work done with a small deity bothering one at all minutes of the day. Sothis stays quiet now, content listening to the fireplace and Byleth’s pen marking the paper. They’re both still getting used to being apart again, and Byleth revels in the quiet moments again, of simply being content existing together.

Something about sitting and doing paperwork is cathartic after a long battle, but it was different without Sothis. Not lonelier, because Byleth often sat with El during the war, but different. 

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the stack of graded work finally outweighs the ungraded when there’s a gentle knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Byleth shakes out her hands from the writing. Sothis makes a disgruntled noise as she wakes. 

Jeralt shuts the door behind him as he walks in. “Byleth.”

“Father,” she greets similarly. 

He lowers his voice to a pseudo-whisper and covers the side of the mouth with his hand as if any onlookers wouldn’t be able to overhear regardless. “Can I talk to you about – about the _thing_?”

Byleth sets the papers in her hands down into a stack. “Not here.”

He nods, and they make the brisk walk back to her dorm with ease. Byleth deadbolts the door behind them then tilts her head to Sothis expectantly. She takes the hint and settles into her own little corner of the room.

“Is she here now?” Jeralt asks, leaning against the counter under the windowsill while Byleth seats herself on the bed.

“Yes, Sothis is here,” Byleth resists rolling her eyes, only because her father asks this every time they speak privately. “She’s sitting by the window.”

Jeralt jumps back from the windowsill. “Oh, uh, my bad.”

Sothis looks amused. “Tell him he’ll surely regret the day he defied the Beginning.”

“She says it’s fine.”

She barks out a laugh.

Jeralt nods slowly, eyes searching Sothis’ corner for any hint she's there. He doesn’t find anything, but that's hardly a surprise. “I’m leaving with the knights in a few hours.”

Byleth takes a sharp breath. “This early? But Lonato –”

Jeralt winces. “Yeah. We’ll be back in a few weeks, but…”

“But you won't be there to prepare.” She finishes.

“I can leave the mercenaries?” He tries weakly. 

It won’t be the same. They both know it. Byleth resists the urge to curse. “No, take them with you.”

“We still might be able to march from the Monastery before Rhea sends Catherine with us,” Sothis tries. 

Byleth purses her lips together. “Sothis thinks we might still be able to route around Catherine if we leave early enough.”

“That’s about the best we can hope for,” He shakes his head. “Sorry, kid. I know you're probably tired from your mission with the brats.”

“No, thank you for telling me.” She tries for a weak smile, but it feels wholly unnatural on her face. “I’d rather know now than find you gone in the morning. We can figure this out.”

Jeralt tries to smile back reassuringly, but it looks as forced as Byleth feels. He heads back towards the door. “Yeah, we can. Goodnight, kid.”

Byleth smiles at him again, a little more feeling behind it this time. 

“I’m glad we told him,” Sothis muses from behind. “Your father is sweet.”

She laughs lightly. “Not a word many use to describe the Blade Breaker.”

“No, but _you_ would.”

Byleth can’t think of a proper response to that, so she doesn’t. She can feel Sothis’ smug gaze on her at her silence. 

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” She sets her coat down on the back of the desk chair. “Early morning tomorrow.”

“You have no classes!”

“Long day today,” She unfastens her armor. “Bandits don’t kill themselves.”

Sothis scoffs. “You didn’t even need a Divine Pulse!”

“A testament to my skill. And the work I did.”

Sothis snorts but leaves it at that. Good, Byleth does need some rest. There’s much to be worrying about these next few days. 

* * *

When Rhea calls her in to discuss Golden Deer’s next mission, Byleth mentally checks out as soon as she opens her mouth.

It’s easy to disassociate Rhea from the Immaculate One like this, and Byleth can almost ignore how uneasy Rhea makes her. Almost. Watching Rhea spit curses across the battlefield certainly ruined the holy image she toted. 

Sothis faithfully tries to pay attention in her stead, but even she’s soon bored out of her mind.

“Ugh, you’d think she’s incapable of saying anything of interest.” 

_There’s a delicate balance she has to withhold. The price of secretly being a dragon comes at a cost._

“The delicate balance of being interesting,” Sothis repeats solemnly, before dissolving into laughter. Byleth suppresses a smile. She has to calm herself down before speaking again. “You know, I was going to say I could hardly take her seriously anymore, but now I’m sure I can’t.”

_She’s doing very important work, I doubt she would appreciate your behavior._

Sothis laughs again, harder now. “I –”

“Professor?” Rhea asks. “I trust you are listening intently?”

“Of course,” Byleth lies. She’s barely registered what’s happening when her heart stops in her chest as Catherine emerges from within the room’s wing. Oh no. She missed something big. 

“Well then,” Rhea nods. “Catherine will be accompanying your class with a party of Knights.”

“Nice to meet you,” Catherine nods. She feels sick to her stomach. “I’ve heard a lot about you. If you need anything, just ask.”

Byleth hadn’t realized the meeting had adjourned until Sothis tugged at her to leave, caught up stewing in silent panic. She couldn’t for the life of her remember if Catherine joined her this early last time, or if something had changed. Both realities were equally disastrous; for one, Byleth may have inadvertently altered the timeline. For two, if Byleth couldn’t trust her own memory, what could she trust?

“Don’t think such thoughts!” Sothis chastises, although Byleth could sense worry behind her eyes. “We’ll just work through this. There must be some way to dissuade Catherine from coming along.”

_She wouldn’t listen to me. And she would get suspicious if I asked her to stay._

Sothis glances off in thought. “Well, if we can make friends with her…”

_Someone could get suspicious._

Sothis groans. “You can just say Seteth. Regardless, you’re correct. He’s probably closely monitoring your every move at this point.”

_No pressure._ She heads towards the dining hall. It probably won’t be too early for lunch.

“Ahah!” Sothis flies to face her. “We could take a leaf out of Claude’s book, add something in her food. Oh!” She claps her hands together. “A tea party!”

_Would it not be suspicious if I didn't drink from the pot?_

Sothis’ face falls. “Well, I suppose. Maybe we can consult Claude?”

Speak of the devil, she turns into the dining hall to be immediately greeted with the Golden Deer table full to the bursting, Claude and Hilda at the head of it. They’ve dragged out two chairs and crammed them both to fit on the end. Although they’re all tightly crammed together, the House is laughing. It makes Byleth happy to see everyone smiling again.

Sothis rolls her eyes. “You can join them, you know. It’s your house too.”

It doesn’t feel like it is, after all this time. It feels wrong. She should be sitting with the Black Eagles if anything. Mornings of listening to Dorothea teasing Ferdinand’s bed head, Caspar ribbing Lindhardt for being asleep at the table, Hubert’s somber and cryptic comments after beats of silence, El’s small smiles at their antics: all of it feels alien from across the hall. 

So be it, she knows. Byleth can handle a new morning routine if it could divert a war. She takes some food from the staff at the kitchen before circling back to the Golden Deer table. 

“Marianne,” She sets her tray down with a soft noise as some sort of warning, but Marianne flinches anyway. “Is this seat taken?”

She bolts up with a start, knocking her knees on the table with a painful thunk. “Oh! I – um, I’m sorry. I can move –”

Byleth waves her down. “No, I wanted to sit next to you. You can stay. Or you can go if you’d like.”

Sothis frowns. “I wish we could help her now. It hurts to see her like this.”

Byleth nods then turns to the table, which has gone silent, all eyes on her. “Good morning.”

Claude winks back at her, not missing a beat. “Good morning, Teach.” 

Everyone replies in a chorus of greetings. Marianne settles back into her seat, and the group goes back to their conversation. Lysithea shifts to be seated across from them. 

“I wanted to ask about your use of white magic during the skirmish with the bandits.”

Byleth answers question after question as Lysithea grills her on tactics, and eventually, Ignatz joins to listen in, which leads to Raphael shifting seats until everyone in the house is crowded around her at the middle of the table. 

She takes a breath in the lull between questions as Claude teases Lysithea about her age. She listens to Hilda chat softly with Marianne, before whipping around and shutting Lorenz up before he can even begin speaking. Raphael and Leonie barking at each other from across the table, while Ignatz falls asleep against Raphael’s side. 

“It’s certainly different,” Sothis says. “But I don’t mind too much either.”

Well, Byleth can’t argue that.

* * *

The one person who hates group tasks more than Claude is definitely Hilda. 

“I don’t know what the professor was implying,” She huffs. “I think I’m definitely feminine enough to ride a pegasus.”

“You want to learn a whole new weapon type just to prove her wrong?”

Claude massages his temples, trying not to focus too much on the disaster that’s become his afternoon. 

The Professor had almost finished wrapping up the lecture when she came around to homework. “Claude and Hilda will be on the group task this week,” There were a few relieved sighs around the classroom. “Everyone else, break for lunch. I want to discuss the details with you both.”

There was an excited surge of conversation as everyone rose and rushed out. He catches a glimpse of Hilda, melting in her seat as if maybe they can both avoid this if the Professor can’t see them hiding behind the table. The Professor barely spared them more than a glance. 

“You two will be on the sky patrol,” 

Okay, that didn’t sound too bad, at least they weren’t weeding. 

“But I want you on wyverns.”

Ah.

Objectively, that’s all well and good. Claude’s been riding wyverns for years. Making a few rounds around the monastery will be a cinch. What he doesn’t like is the implication that the Professor knows that.

Maybe she’s just trying to get Hilda to do some work – as if his presence really does anything – but if there’s one thing he’s learned from the past few months, it’s that the Professor always has a reason. There’s a nagging in the back of his head telling him that she knows more than she lets on about his past. And, well, Claude always listens to his hunches.

It’s only a week, though. This is all fine. 

Hilda complains about doing work the whole walk over to the stable. She knows better than to rope some poor sod into doing it for her. The Professor always finds out. Like, scarily quick. And if Hilda gets in trouble, he’ll get in trouble for trying to cover for her. He doesn’t mind it too much, Hilda does what she can for him, too. 

Saddling and mounting the wyverns is easy enough, and if Hilda wonders how Claude readies the beasts effortlessly, she doesn’t ask. She’s a bit clumsy at first, but after a few rounds she picks up flying with ease. They circle around the monastery a few times, picking up more and more speed each lap. Soon enough she gets enough confidence to brandish her axe while flying, and Claude whoops and cheers her on. It’s genuinely fun, and exhilarating, to fly again, but it plucks a homesick chord inside him. 

They’re both slowing down to land into the stables when Claude spots the Professor making her way out the monastery gates. 

“Oh! Oh shit!” 

Hilda follows his glance. “What? The Professor?” Then he can tell she’s fit the pieces together. “Is this about the other night?”

“Yes! I’m really on to something, alright?” He knows he could talk her into going with him. It’d be easy, but he’s gotten exhausted maintaining certain facades, a solo mission is pretty appealing. He spurs the wyvern forward.

He makes a less-than-graceful landing near the stables, while Hilda makes a pleasant landing just barely behind – not really so pleasant, she’s still not practiced enough for flying.

She follows reluctantly behind as he hurriedly goes through the process of disburdening his wyvern. He tightens the buttons on his uniform before slinging his bow over his shoulder. “Do you want to come along?”

Hilda scowls, but there’s not much heat behind it. “To tail the Professor through town? I’d rather die,” she says dryly, then gestures to the doorway. “I, for one, am going back to my room. Go do what you need to do.”

He laughs, meaning to sound light-hearted, but ending up more tired than anything. He pushes open the stable doors, almost running into a handful of other students. He threads through the crowds by the marketplace by the gates, then lets his legs carry him down the side of the hill, toward the small town sprawling outside Garreg Mach’s walls. 

He circles around the town a few times, glancing over townspeople and the few students intermittent. After having no luck on the street, he pops into a few weaponsmithing shops. No dice there, either. He starts to wonder if he imagined it, just as he catches sight of the Professor’s dark cape fluttering behind a corner. 

Claude smirks, then runs ahead to catch up with her. But not too close, he still wants to see what she’s up to. She leads him down a few backroad alleys until they’re at the edge of the Sealed Forest. It feels vaguely like he’s been led on a wild goose chase before the Professor whips around to face him.

She looks significantly more tired than she had when he left the classroom this afternoon. He opens his mouth to say something before she stalks right past him while unsheathing her sword, only to thrust it straight into the bushes. 

Claude is… afraid, but a little bit into it. 

He watches her pull her sword back, now soaked in crimson. Now that he’s looking, he can see the shadow of a figure huddled in the bush. He hopes his face conveys the proper amount of confusion he’s feeling. 

“Bandits,” she says lamely. 

* * *

Byleth is exhausted. She’s spent a good chunk of time divine pulsing her way out of some mercenaries going after Claude for whatever reason. The reason doesn’t matter to her. It’s the fact that she’s now much too tired to actually go about her shopping. Her killing edge is going to break, damn it. 

Claude furrows his brow as he takes in the scene at hand. She’s too exhausted to properly explain. 

She would have avoided the ordeal altogether if only she could figure out when Claude had spotted her. But alas, here she is. Crushing the would-be assassins of the heir von Riegan. 

“Bandits,” He repeats.

“Bandits.”

“How did you know he was there?”

“I saw him.”

“Ever the avatar of eloquence,” Sothis says inspiringly. 

Byleth prays she can feel the ’fuck off’ thought she’s projecting right now. 

“I can!” The beginnings of a laugh bubble up in Sothis’ voice.

Claude looks expectantly at her. Fuck, he probably asked something. She shrugs noncommittally. 

He narrows his eyes. 

Byleth may have fucked up. 

“Divine pulse?” Sothis offers.

It may be a waste to throw away divine pulses like so, but she really does _not_ want Claude to grow suspicious of her. Purple haze gathers and clears through her vision. 

“Bandits,” Claude says.

“Yes,” Byleth says this time, in some vain effort to spice up their conversation. 

“How did you know he was there?”

“I saw him,” Byleth waves her bloodied sword. “You didn’t?”

Sothis laughs, lilting but harsh, and blissfully spares her any remark this time.

“Not at all,” His eyes glow with a look of steady determination. Byleth decides she may have been doomed as soon as she attempted to avoid a teenaged Claude’s suspicions. Perhaps, she was doomed from the start. “I can’t help but wonder how you saw the man while facing the other way.”

“I’m a mercenary,” She says, stilted and awkward. “That’s what we do.”

“See through the back of your head?” He _sounds_ bewildered, but he’s smiling knowingly around it. 

Sothis had regained her composure, only to dissolve into giggles when she hears Claude.

“Something like that,” Byleth resolves she’s just going to have to live with the embarrassment. Then, she notices the foliage shifting on the forest’s edge.

In a horrific moment, she remembers there are more assassins. 

She nods to Claude with what she hopes is an impassive stare. “Arm yourself.”

Claude fixes her with a look but hastens to draw his bow. Without bothering to explain she rounds a tree and buries her sword into the body she knew was lurking behind the corner. She looks at Claude. “Cover me.”

Claude sputters but doesn’t bring himself to disagree, so Byleth counts that as a win. It’s a lovely change of pace to only talk to him in battle commands. Mostly because he can’t talk back. 

“They’re flanking. Stay behind me,” She misses the Sword of the Creator. No messy transitions between ranged and close combat. Maybe she could throw her sword?

“Do _not_ throw your sword,” Sothis says. 

Byleth’s disappointed, but not surprised. She pulls out the iron bow she bought this morning. Theoretically, it was for Ignatz. Alas. She nocks an arrow. “Take them out before they can circle around.”

“Aye aye, Teach,” he snipes the first figure to emerge from the woods. Nice.

They make quick work taking out the small party. Byleth is a fool for not abusing Claude’s bow skills earlier. Her own skill is spotty at best, but she remembers enough to knock a few men down by aiming for their knees. 

Whoever’s attempting to off Claude – those who slither in the dark? – or get into the monastery did not think their plan through. It’s almost laughably easy. Which sets Byleth on edge, because that usually means there are some reinforcements. 

Claude lowers his bow and gives her an easy smile. “So about –”

There are her reinforcements. He stares at her, concerned, before she strides right past and decks the man hurriedly rushing to strike him from behind. 

Sothis whoops, “GET HIS ASS!” 

Claude’s look definitely turns more fearful. “You can brawl, too?” 

“Mercenary,” Byleth explains. She drops her foot to keep the assassin down for safe-keeping. “Go find the Knights.”

* * *

“Hilda,” Claude slams Hilda’s door open with a sense of urgency only a man condemned could offer. “I think the Professor can see the future.”

Hilda gives him a dirty look from atop her bed. She has fabric stretched across her lap and an embroidery needle clutched in her hand. She pulls her hand back to sit her finger in her mouth. “You made me stab myself.”

“Not important right now,” He crashes onto her bed. “I just arrived back after bringing the Knights of Seiros to town. There were bandits by the Sealed Forest.”

Hilda narrows her eyes. “There’s no way there could be bandits so close to the monastery.”

“There were! I helped the Professor kill most of them!” he rips his archery gloves off and stretches his hands. “And I didn’t even do that much. She _knew_ where every man was before he even appeared.”

“She was eerily good at predicting the bandits’ movements during the raid...” He watches her turn over the pieces in her head. She looks up at him again. “And you’re _sure_ she doesn’t just have better eyes?”

“I’m an _archer_ !” he says, “I _have_ to have good eyes!” 

Hilda shrugs. “She can see through walls?”

He gives her a dirty look. “You really think it’s more likely she can see through walls?”

“Well…” She smirks as she meets his unamused stare, then laughs. “Yeah, alright, I’ll help.”

He gives a tired cheer and drops his head on her lap unceremoniously. “Great. Next time she leaves town we’re going after her.”

She groans, almost exasperated but he knows her well enough to know she’s feigning it. “If the Professor can foresee battles, we’re bringing a mage at the _least_.”

He blinks one eye open to see her clearly. “You want to bring Marianne?”

She drops her embroidery fabric so it falls right on his face. 

* * *

One sweet second, Byleth feels nothing. And then she feels her back grow wet, and then the lancehead buried through her stomach. And for one sweet second, time stops. Not in the way a divine pulse stops it, with a dull purple haze dancing across her vision. The soldiers stop mid-swing, the beasts ahead are stuck while toppling to the ground, and above it all, Byleth sees the Immaculate One.

Byleth sees Rhea. 

And El, before her. Impossibly small against the imposing silhouette. 

It’s not a choice, not really. 

She would like to say she marches through the fires with grace. Like something divine, a single missive, a single drive propelling her forward. 

Byleth limps through the battlefield. In some sick way, she’s reminded of an old hunting dog, past its prime and good for nothing more than dragging itself through its master’s manor.

She makes it to El’s side, slumping against her shoulders to stay upright. In her hand, the Sword of the Creator glows and pulses. 

“El,” She rasps desperately. 

And El does not answer. Slowly, movement trickles into each of their forms. She resumes battle as though Byleth isn’t there, gritting her teeth and clutching Aymr as she stalks forward. Byleth falls onto the cobblestones without El’s weight supporting her. 

There’s a murmur of conversation above her, as El faces her final obstacle. Byleth can’t even pay attention, because suddenly everything _hurts_. She coughs against the blood bubbling up her throat and in the hand she tries to catch the blood, flower petals gather. 

Then, from one breath to the next, the wetness pooling in her armor vanishes and she’s back in her bed at the monastery. 

Byleth inhales shakily, pulling herself up. The moonlight colors her room a serene blue. Sothis makes a concerned noise.

“Are you alright?”

She knows Byleth had a nightmare, and she saw it play out just as she did. But she gives Byleth the out.

“Yes,” She settles her breathing. “I am.”

“You don’t have to be,” Sothis tries.

“I know.”

“You can miss her.”

“I know.”

Sothis twines their hands together, but she doesn’t seem to be able to think of anything to say. 

“The nightmares are getting better,” Byleth says quietly, straining for anything positive. 

Sothis leans against her shoulder. “That’s good.”

Byleth shrugs off the looming dread of Lonato.

Neither of them make it back to sleep that night. 

* * *

Staking out the Professor turns out to be a harsher ordeal than Claude anticipated. At least Hilda is suffering with him.

“Shit!” He exclaims as the Professor turns toward the hedge they're hiding behind. “Duck!”

They drop below the bush and peer through the leaves. Hilda mutters something incoherent. They watch the Professor walk by in silence, rising back up to watch her head into the greenhouse. 

Claude and Hilda share a mutual look for only a moment before booking it down the dormitories. 

The pass by a few students as they run, but the only one he really notices is Leonie, who glances up at them and only shakes her head. 

They skid to a stop, only very nearly avoiding crashing into the greenhouse. They slide up against the glass walls, and Claude leans against it inconspicuously while Hilda cups her hands over her eyes and looks in. He nods at the students passing by who are giving them both weird looks. 

“She’s… getting flowers I think,” She says. 

“For who…?” He contemplates aloud. 

The Professor was generous with flowers. She gave them out as a reward for just about anything: winning a sparring match, passing an assessment, doing well in tutoring. He probably wouldn’t even be able to count all the reasons he’s seen.

Claude figured it had something to do with the fact that flowers grew quickly and were inexpensive. But he would also never admit he felt the tiniest swell of pride when the Professor presses a lily into his hands.

That didn’t matter right now, though. Because the Professor stocked up on flowers during weekends and it was a Thursday afternoon. So they had some other purpose, something important enough that they could only be collected during the week.

“A date?” Hilda asks. They grimace in time with each other. Yeah, no. If the Professor had a date, the whole monastery would already know.

He taps her shoulder and Hilda leans up against the wall so he can look in. She’s not wrong, the Professor’s pretty obviously gathering flowers in a bouquet. He watches her bundle them and tie them with a ribbon, then as she shares a few words with the gardeners. And then she looks up and makes direct eye contact with him through the window.

“Shit,” Claude says. 

Hilda abandons all attempts at keeping their casual spying casual and cups her eyes on the glass. 

“Shit,” she agrees.

Claude reaches for the panic response he has built his being on and launches himself off the wall and bolts. Hilda doesn’t even bother with a noise of discontent, just follows at his heels as they run back down the dormitories. As they make another pass by Leonie, she’s beside herself laughing. 

He doesn’t pause to stick his tongue at her, of course. That would be uncouth. And also detrimental to his survival. 

They cut through the gardens to catch their breath behind the hedges. ‘Their’ is a strong word – Claude needs a breather, Hilda’s doing fine. He crouches down and groans while she keeps a lookout.

She makes an irritated noise. “I’m too short, I can’t see anything.”

Claude contemplates for barely a second. “Here,” he straightens a little, “get on my shoulders.”

She jumps up no problem and he balances precariously to keep them both from crashing. “Okay, I don’t see the Professor,” she loosens and drops back down. “Do you think she’s left?”

“I don’t think we should assume anything,” He steers them towards the mess hall. “We can’t let our guard down. We need to get eyes on her.”

He peeks behind the open door leading inside Garreg Mach and jumps when he hears a voice behind him.

“Hello, Claude! Oh, and Hilda,” Ignatz says, walking by them to get through the doorway. “Are you getting lunch as well?”

Hilda and Claude shush him loudly. 

He scrunches his face in confusion. “Are you okay?”

Leonie walks past nonchalantly, making him jump again. “They’re on their bullshit, just leave ‘em.”

Claude opens his mouth to protest, but she just keeps walking by and into the mess hall. Ignatz fixes them with a look before shrugging and wishing them luck before leaving as well.

He shares a conducive look with Hilda before dipping inside. The mess hall is emptier than the morning and dinner rush, but enough of a crowd for some limited cover. He scans the faces throughout to recognize the Professor walking through the door leading into Garreg Mach’s foyer.

“I don’t think she’s looking for us,” he observes aloud.

Hilda narrows her eyes. “Then we go after her.”

So they tail the Professor back through the gardens, towards the northern part of the monastery and then into the knight’s hall. She doesn’t look back at them, even though Claude is certain she knows they’re there. He leans outside the door frame and peeks in, Hilda underneath and making a suitable headrest.

Inside, Claude watches Felix spar with some poor soldier. He sees her skirt around the edges of the training grounds, making a beeline for Sylvain settled down at the table further back. Claude has to strain his ears to listen to them speak over the noise.

“– py birthday,” She says.

Sylvain lights up and blushes when she hands him the bouquet. “Aw, Professor! You shouldn’t have.”

The Professor looks at him oddly. “It’s your birthday. Of course.”

The sounds of metal on metal stop abruptly as Felix disengages to turn and stride towards them. Claude and Hilda pull back to stand comfortably outside. 

“Huh,” he says as he absorbs what’s happened.

“Huh,” she agrees, then frowns. “Did Raphael get flowers?”

“You know? I’m not sure. We need to ask.”

She hums contemplatively then rocks back on her heels. “Do you want to wait for the Professor or break for lunch?”

“Lunch,” He stretches his arms out and they both start heading to the dining hall. “Maybe Leonie will have saved us a seat.”

Hilda laughs. Yeah, they both know she didn’t. 

“Hilda, Claude.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin and reaches for his bow on instinct, falling into step behind Hilda. The Professor stands, completely nonplussed, staring right at them.

For a moment, Claude thinks he’s absolutely going to be murdered. At least he has Hilda. 

Then the Professor shakes her head, and walks by them both. 

“Well,” says Hilda, “Better than I expected.”

* * *

The week passes in moments. Lecture, tutor, eat, sleep, repeat. Repeat, repeat, repeat. When Byleth makes it back around to Sunday, it’s a relief. Just for a release from the monotony of it all. There’s an itch under her skin from the lack of any real physical activity for a week. Maybe she could go fishing?

“I’m begging you, please don’t go fishing,” Sothis says as they leave the dining hall after breakfast. She scrunches her face in distaste. “I don’t want to spend another full day fishing.”

_Then you are a coward._

Sothis laughs aloud and Byleth can feel the ghost of a smile on her face.

“Fine, I’ll be a coward,” She laughs softly, then turns back to face her again. “We could go on an errand for the Church? Dispose of some bandits? Maybe you could try reason magic again.”

Byleth would make a face at that, if not for the stares she would garner. 

_Seteth hasn’t said anything._

“Hm,” She flies to rest on Byleth’s shoulders. “Are there any students who might have business to attend to?”

_Not this early. By Wyvern Moon perhaps?_

Sothis groans. “Fine, whatever,” She drops her head to sit on Byleth’s own. “Wait! Why don’t we go to Zanado?”

_Why would we go to Zanado?_

“Training? You haven’t fought beasts in months.”

Byleth immediately dismisses the thought. _I don’t need it_.

“You don’t know that! Hey, okay, maybe you can think of it as stress relief.”

_I’m not stressed._

Sothis gives Byleth a long moment of silence for the bullshit in that statement to catch up with her. 

“Maybe I’m a little stressed,” She mumbles. 

“Yes, you are. And… ” Sothis says. “I wish you weren’t,” Then quieter, “I don’t actually mind if you want to fish.”

Byleth smiles just a little. 

_Okay._

_But I am not going to Zanado._

“Professor!” Claude jogs up behind her. “Do you have any weekend plans? Me and the Deer are wondering if you could get us permission to go into town.”

Byleth has heard that story before. And he’s going to find a way to make her chaperone the trip. She very much does not want to chaperone the trip. Besides, the men on the edge of the Sealed Forest won’t chance getting any closer to Garreg Mach, even if they do have a vendetta. 

Really, if she goes, she’s just going to have to listen to her students blather on about tea for a few hours. That would be the opposite of stress relief. 

“Yes,” She tells him carefully. “I’m going fishing.”

She very sincerely doubts Claude will want any part in that. 

“Oh?” He leans in through her personal space to speak softer. “Well… I was worried there might still be bandits around. It would be a comfort to have you come along.”

“Take Alois,” she says, not interested in falling into whatever trap he has planned. “I’ll be away from the Monastery for the day.”

“Fishing,” Claude narrows his eyes.

“Fishing,” she says by way of explanation, then takes a step back. “I’ll return in time for classes Monday.” 

He nods slowly. Too slowly. “Alright, Professor, see you tomorrow then.”

Sothis laughs. “He’s definitely planning something.”

Byleth can’t help but agree, but turns away and heads outside Garreg Mach.

* * *

Byleth isn’t sure how she got talked into going to Zanado. The details are blurry. All she knows is one moment she’s leaving the monastery for her free day, and the next she’s unsheathing her sword beneath a massive wolf.

Distantly, she curses Sothis. 

“Hey, no distractions! Get his ass!” 

Sothis has also been unbearably smug.

But maybe she was a little right about the stress relief. There’s something inherently more satisfying with felling a beast over killing a man. She kicks it away and whips around to plunge her blade into the next target. She would never admit it, but maybe she less-than-remembered the particulars of killing beasts, so really the trip had been a huge help.

She draws back onto the healing tiles remaining in the ruins to catch her breath. Sothis flies up to get a better view of the battlefield. 

“There’s something approaching on the bridge,” she calls, “I think it’s… people?”

Byleth bites down a curse. Of course, there’s a chance it’s only bandits but– 

Sothis laughs, and with some kind of fondness she says, “Yeah, it’s the Golden Deer.” 

She stretches her shoulders and shakes out her hands. Goddess, she wishes she wasn’t responsible for these kids. She takes one last breath before throwing herself back in the fray, dodging between beasts and slashing at any that get too close. She reaches the first bridges out of Zanado just in time to rendezvous with a smaller unit split from the class. 

Lysithea is the only one who doesn’t look sheepish, with the gall to leer at her while Ignatz and Raphael avoid her gaze. Ignatz opens his mouth to start–probably–an apology but Byleth just brushes him off.

“Save it,” she says. “We can talk after the beasts are dealt with.”

They fall in step behind her as she leads towards the winged beasts guarding the bridge out of Zanado, where she can see the rest of the Golden Deer making a stand. She frees her bow and notches an arrow, then lets Raphael storm ahead while following close behind.

From there it gets more complicated. Her students weren’t at their full potential, but they were well on their way. But no matter how competent they _can_ be doesn’t mean they’re fully competent now. At first she makes a bad judgment call and puts too much distance between Lysithea and the rest of the party, leading to her getting singled out by the wolves. 

It snowballs from there. There’s an unhealthy balance of undercompensating and overcompensating from Ignatz and Raphael, the former hesitating too long before a shot and the latter charging headfirst into every monster. She has to divine pulse several times to keep everyone out of range. 

When they finally rendezvous with the main force, she finds Lorenz barely standing and Marianne hunched over him, white magic not flowing as it should. She’s probably exhausted herself already. Flames. She pulses back. 

A couple more rounds of the same nonsense as before, but they reach them faster this time. Byleth’s healing magic is weak, but it’ll do. Leonie and Hilda fend off the winged beasts while Claude sticks under cover. From there, she only has to go back one more time–which is good, because she’s certain it’s the last pulse she has–when Leonie overextends herself against the demonic beast. 

She overcompensates after the damn things are felled, taking another few shots here and there to make sure they _stay_ down.

When the last one finally falls, Byleth whistles for her house to gather around her. 

“Claude,” she loops the bow over her shoulder, “care to explain?”

“Now this may look bad–” he starts smoothly. 

“Claude asked us to come,” Lysithea says bluntly, crossing her arms. “Begged us, more like.”

He makes an indigent sound while Raphael laughs heartily and claps his hand on his shoulder. “We were worried about you, Professor!” 

Lorenz nods, though still not quite meeting her eyes. “You shouldn’t have wandered out alone like this.” 

Byleth almost laughs. They followed her all the way to Zanado just to lecture her? 

Sothis elbows her. “Say _something_!”

She contemplates for a moment before shrugging. “I suppose we’re all heading back to the monastery together, then.”

The tension between them dissipates when Hilda laughs. She rubs the corner of her eye. “Sorry, sorry. I just don’t know what I expected you to say, Professor.”

Claude laughs with her. “I–”

Byleth whips around to face him. “You are not off the hook,” then she turns to address everyone, “All of you will be putting in some extra work this week for sneaking away from monastery grounds and following me. Claude, we will speak alone once we return.”

He pales slightly, Sothis laughs hard. “That’s probably the most he’s ever heard you say at once!” 

“Sorry, Teach,” he says weakly. 

Hilda jumps in. “But Professor! Have you been fighting beasts for long? I’ve never even _seen_ one up close and you were ripping through them like paper!”

“Yes,” Byleth says. She does not elaborate.

“The Professor was a mercenary,” Lorenz muses. “It’s not far-fetched that she would have faced beasts before.”

“But a _demonic_ beast?”

They start their way back to the Monastery, her students loudly debating her beast hunting habits, too amused to interject. She slows for a moment to follow behind them to watch all of them at once. It’s painfully reminiscent of the first time Byleth had come alone to Zanado, she can almost see the ghosts of the young Black Eagles in front of her.

It’s bittersweet once again, as Byleth comes to a realization.

_You knew they would come._

Sothis smiles. “Perhaps.”

It all comes together in hindsight. Byleth is irked that she didn’t think of it herself. The Black Eagles were more comfortable with each other –with her– revisiting Zanado the first time. The Golden Deer were still without that final thread cementing them into more of a unit, more of a family. 

She glances up ahead. Hilda and Claude are talking up Lorenz, who grows more and more animated in his argument. Ignatz is timid for a few moments before he starts egging him on as well, and then all the Golden Deer end up ganging up on him. Claude looks up and meets her eye, slightly smirking, before turning back to the conversation. 

Hopefully they’re drawing ever closer to that point.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas. i know i said i was gonna update regularly and i SWEAR i had this chapter written and queued up but i was just so unhappy with it as a whole that i gutted it and built it up again and now im actually content with posting it. thank you again to my beta evie for putting up with my nonsense and checking up on the doc whenever i asked. ur a real one king

_ But in the right environment, anyone could be seen as an outsider. It can become…overwhelming. That’s why I kept running. Kept fighting.  _

* * *

Claude meets Hilda in her room again, dropping onto her bed to stare up at the ceiling while she takes off her armor. 

“Did she know there were gonna be beasts? She seemed prepared,” he muses aloud. 

Hilda snorts. “She’s always prepared.” 

“Do you think she was planning on killing all of them  _ alone _ ?”

“Probably,” Hilda drapes her brigand furs over the chair and falls into bed beside him. “She’s crazy. ”

“Goddess,” He can’t think of anything to say, his mind is rushing so fast. She did always look prepared, but something was different this time. The Professor seemed expectant every time he watched her fight, as if she knew exactly what was going to happen and when it would. Sure, she was a monster in combat, but there was a more prominent cautiousness this time, and an unnameable relief by the end of the battle.

But why was she there in the first place? He’s certain he can piece together the rest of the picture once he has the motive.

“Do you think she was looking for something in Zanado?” Hilda props her head on her elbow to face him. “The Professor doesn’t seem the type to pick out fights meaninglessly.”

“I don’t know what she would be looking for,” he says. “We swiped the one chest when fighting the bandits. Though… I haven’t looked into the history behind the place. Maybe there’s something we’re missing,” he groans. “Flames, we’re obviously missing something.”

Hilda huffs. “Well, I’m not sure about you, but I’m not going to do anything else this evening,” she flops her legs on the bed, over his stomach. “That’s enough for Hilda for one day. I’m  _ tired _ .”

There’s a knock at the door, and they both hush up immediately.

Hilda mouths to him instead of speaking,  _ The Professor? _

He isn’t sure. She could be doing her rounds to check on everyone before bed, but… it’s late. Even for her. He jerks his head toward the door, and Hilda gets up and goes to open it.

She opens it slow and holds her foot out to keep it from opening too wide, “Hi, listen, I’m real tired–”

“Hilda,” it’s Leonie, Claude realizes. Why is she here? “Do you and Claude have any idea what the fuck the Professor was up to?”

He groans and rolls to bury his face in a pillow. 

“Oh great, he’s already here,” her voice is a lot clearer now, so Hilda probably let her in. The door shuts closed behind them, “Hello Claude.”

“Hi, Leonie.”

Hilda sits down on the bed beside him, so he gets back up. Leonie perches herself on the edge of the desk, somewhere between sitting and standing. She probably thinks it looks cool. “So?”

“We’re not sure,” Claude says, stuck at the impasse between figuring out what Leonie knows and what he wants to tell her. 

“She wasn’t looking for something, that we’re sure of,” Hilda adds on.

He is starting to realize that this night is veering dangerously close to them just restating the same few facts over and over with no real progression. He doesn’t want to  _ stagnate _ , at least. “The only other thing I could see her do is wanting to train. Or learn.”

Leonie blinks, suddenly thoughtful “What, you think it could’ve been a teaching moment? How would she know we would… follow…” 

Realization hits, and Hilda falls back on the bed. “We really gave it away by following her around the monastery, huh?”

“We got conned into more schoolwork,” Leonie rubs her face, hands dragging down her eyelids. 

A more startling thought approaches. “Does she think we’re going to be fighting a lot of monsters?” 

Hilda looks up again. “I… hope not. They’re not uncommon, but I can’t imagine what she thinks is going to happen.”

He lets out a tired laugh, but it feels more like a groan. He is  _ exhausted _ . The march back to Garreg Mach was long and grueling. He had spent most of it trying desperately to win Leonie over and let him ride with her, to no avail. 

Hilda yawns. “Okay, I’m kicking everyone out. I need beauty sleep.”

“No kidding,” he can’t resist yawning as well, “We can reconvene tomorrow. And uh…” he nods to Leonie. “You’re on the team, I suppose.”

She smiles. “Glad to be aboard!”

They all say their goodbyes and split. The Professor can wait for now. He rubs away the sleep from his eyes and heads towards his room, resolving to wash himself early tomorrow morning. 

* * *

“They’re still following you,” Sothis rests both her elbows on Byleth’s shoulder to peer over her head. 

Byleth tries to brush off the purple cloth and ribbon over her eyes with limited success.  _ I know. I don't know what they think they're going to find. _

Sothis laughs. “Hey, turn around and scare them again.”

Byleth obliges, eyes on the shapes of black fabric she can see around Sothis, who cackles as her students stumble and retreat. She goes back to walking to the market. Their equipment should be ready and repaired by now. Then she’ll be back in time to give her evening lecture. 

“Have you given any more thought about Lonato?” Sothis asks, tone shifting. “Outside of battle preparations.”

Byleth grimaces.  _ Not yet. We have time, though. I’ll think of something _ .

People aren’t her strong suit. She usually left most of the conversations to someone more competent than herself. El was good at that. Talking to people. 

“We’ll make it work,” Sothis says brightly, moving out of Byleth’s face to drift at her side. 

She keeps quiet while Byleth exchanges the gold for the newly repaired weapons. Byleth wraps the bundle with cloth, like some sort of sword bouquet. The thought almost makes her laugh. It’s almost past midday already, she’ll need to go back to class soon. As she’s on her way out, another merchant calls out to her.

“Ma’am! We got in that brave bow you were looking for the other day,” he tells her. 

Well. He’s already here, so she might as well see if it's to his liking. “Claude.”

He trots out from behind the curtain of another stall, barely looking sheepish. “Hi, Teach.”

She nods back to the merchant. “Try this.”

To his credit, Claude only blinks for a moment before reaching for the bow and experimentally pulling on the string. Satisfied, he takes an arrow and fires it at the target leaning against the tent wall. 

“On that one it’s easier to string two arrows at once,” the merchant says helpfully. 

Claude fires again with a second arrow. “It’s very fast. I won’t complain if you want to buy it.”

“We’ll take it,” she says, already digging out her pouch of gold. Claude beams as she pays and they both set off back to the monastery proper. She pretends not to notice him signal Hilda and… Leonie, it looks like, both pretending to be interested in the iced fish on display. Byleth is a little worried. She’ll have to keep an eye out if they recruit any more new members. Hilda and Claude are limited to finite hours, she can’t imagine having to deal with even more of her students shadowing her across the monastery. 

Actually, she can imagine that, which is a more terrifying thought than anything. 

He has the same old lazy smirk on his face as they walk out. “What, so I’m your favorite guy now? Why’d you get me a nice bow like that?”

“You passed your class exam,” she says, jostling the sword bouquet in her arms. “Everyone who passed is getting a treat.”

“It’s a  _ really _ nice bow, though.”

“Do not lose it,” she replies evenly. 

He shrugs. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Sothis laughs over him. “You want it for yourself, too, right?”

_ Maybe _ .

She lounges over the air, cackling. Claude can’t hear her, obviously, so he just charges forward. “Any plans for tonight, Teach?”

“Lecture,” she thinks, raising a hand to her face. “Then grading, most likely.”

And hopefully, she can plan for Lonato. Start the ripple effect to create change. 

“Fun,” he says, voice flat. She figures she might finally have a free night. Maybe he’ll study instead. 

* * *

Claude still isn't completely sold on the idea of the whole Zanado thing being a homework assignment. It’s a little more than loose bandages over a wound, a very temporary solution, to say the least. 

The Professor is… smart, most of the time. Especially in battle. She plans for every opportunity, and always easily thwarts away any missteps. 

There was a moment when she made it to him and the rest of the Deer, where she saw the demonic beast and blinked. She didn't expect it. He knows most people wouldn’t expect anything like that, but she’s different. She always  _ knows _ . 

Always knowing was the most suspicious part of all. He has almost taken it for granted. 

The past few nights, he has hung back after class ended to keep an eye on the Professor. Once he’s completely certain she isn’t going anywhere, he absconds to go work on his actual schoolwork. It’s during one of these late-night library trips that Lysithea drops her books on his table with an audible  _ slam _ .

Claude looks up, mildly bored with the whole performance. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I,” He can watch the anger flaring up in her face before she coolly forces it back down, “Was going to offer my help with your whole operation with the Professor.”

He smiles and leans forward, “Already having second thoughts?” 

She grimaces. “Unfortunately.”

“Alright then, I’ll bite,” he says. “What’s your read on the situation?”

“Professor’s planning something. Trying to prepare us. And I don’t think it’s just for this mission.”

Interesting. It’s something he’s been considering as well. “Possible. Very possible,” he looks up when he catches something in his periphery, a shadow jumping behind a pillar. “You can come out, you know.”

Lysithea flinches and whips her head around to face them. Lorenz inches out with a slow and wary sidestep. 

Her face sours. “Why the fuck are you here? Were you following me?” 

“Not quite–”

“Not a great start, dickhead.”

Claude chokes back a laugh, forcing it into a cough. 

“I– Claude, are you okay?” (Claude waves him off, “Just keep talking,” and Lorenz frowns but acquiesces) “I was looking for Claude as well… Leonie was boasting about your plans to unravel the mystery of our Professor completely; I simply wanted to check up on the  _ facts _ . You were just a little quicker to the mark.”

She doesn’t look completely sold on his pitch, but ultimately accepts it. If Claude had to guess, she probably has a similar story.

He wants to throttle Leonie for not keeping her mouth shut or kiss her for giving him this golden opportunity to slip further into the Golden Deer’s trust. Even if nothing ultimately comes out of this little stint (unlikely, at least for him. He always finds something), it’ll bring their little family a touch closer. Get them used to relying on each other. Well, relying on him.

“Hypothetically,” he says, and Lysithea rolls her eyes.”If someone were up to something like that, are you just here to report back to the Professor?”

“Goddess, no,” he shivers. “And put myself on the sharp end of everyone else in the class? I may be blunt at times, but I am not  _ stupid _ .”

He knows how much he trusts the pair in front of him. Not that much, with Lorenz’s barbed interactions at him and Lysithea’s general touchiness with certain topics. It’s a good way to stay on their good sides, letting them in on this little design he’s created. He clicks his tongue. “Do you swear on your pride? Your House and your crest?”

“Yes,” Lorenz says with utmost seriousness. 

“Great. You’re both in,” Claude claps his hands on the desk. “Meeting adjourned.”

“Ah,” says Lorenz.

“Is that it?!” Lysithea looks perplexed. “So you just trust that I’m  _ not _ also the Professor's informant?”

Claude isn’t sure how to spell out that Lysithea only has agency to herself first and foremost without treading weird territory. So he winks. “I can trust you. And you’re a terrible liar.”

She fumes, rage casting a second shadow as the air around them turns darker with her magic. Seems like a good time to bounce. He waves a quick goodbye to them both, then ducks around the corner before teasing Lysithea catches up to him.

  
  


Evening classes pass quickly, almost too quickly for her liking. Too soon, she’s alone in her office again, trying to resist pacing by glazing over submitted work with too many thoughts rattling around in her head.

The worst of which speaks up, sitting legs crossed off the side of Byleth’s desk. “I don’t think this is helping.”

“Nothing is helping,” she pushes her hair out of her eyes, trying to focus on the papers in front of her. 

Sothis glances out the window. “It’s too late to try the training grounds at this hour… We could go night fishing?”

“Didn’t you dislike fishing?”

“I can stomach it,” she says sweetly. And Goddess, Byleth must look desperate. 

She stands up, pushing her chair back behind her. It couldn’t hurt, she supposes. She retrieves her tackle box and heads to the pier, figuring she’ll just borrow a rod left at the bulletin board. 

It’s quiet when she leaves the dorms. Monastery life slows down after sunset, everyone retreating to their rooms to escape the bustling energy the day brought. That’s why it’s a surprise when she spots a familiar head of white hair coming down the steps from the upper level.

Edelgard looks just as surprised as Byleth to see her here. “Oh! Professor. I apologize if it's past curfew, I just wanted to see if some fresh air would help me sleep.”

Byleth is intimately aware of Edelgard and her relationship with sleep. Of the nightmares and the restlessness that follows in the days after. It’s a process they’ve gone through dozens of times. Well…  _ had  _ gone through, forever ago. 

She clenches her fist, nails digging into the meat of her hand, to stop herself from reaching out. Bite your tongue, Byleth. Stand strong and tall. 

“I see,” Byleth straightens. “As long as you take care of yourself and avoid trouble, I won’t report you.”

Edelgard smiles sweetly, a touch of relief slipping into her voice. “Thank you, Professor! May I ask where you’re heading off to?”

“Fishing.”

“It’s… certainly a bit late for that, wouldn’t you say?”

“Never too late to fish,” Byleth says as a way of explanation. Sothis snorts. 

Edelgard cracks another smile. “You’re a very interesting character, Professor. Even if I’m disappointed you did not choose to lead the Black Eagles, I am glad to have met you.”

“Oh,” says Byleth, wondering if the small smile she has is all that obvious. “I’m glad to have met you as well.”

She expects Edelgard to leave after that, but she lingers awkwardly. “Could…” she shakes her head. “Hm, no, nevermind. Good night, Professor. Thank you for excusing me for being out so late. I think I’ll head back to my room now.”

Byleth watches her go, perplexed. She realizes the stress had been alleviated while Edelgard was there when it returns as a crashing wave of anxiety. She rubs her temples; she can feel a migraine edging on the corners of her mind. 

Sothis massages her shoulder. “C’mon. Fishing, right?”

“Yeah,” says Byleth. Her grip on the tackle box tightens. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The pier is blessedly empty and quiet. The moon cuts through the dark shadows reflecting on the water, a bright slash through the gloom and darkness. She takes a rod right off the stall and drops down at the edge of the dock to sit, letting her boots skim against the top of the water. 

She pierces some bait on the hook (maybe a bit too violently) and casts the line. 

Fishing gives her a semblance of calm. It’s familiar, something she’d done a thousand times even before the monastery. She remembers doing it during the war as well to keep herself focused and spend a spare moment not preparing for the next conflict. Time feels a bit more liquid and transient like this, minutes slip into hours into seconds.

Nothing is biting.

Byleth kicks the heel of her boot over the water, just to make something happen. 

“Here’s a thought,” says Sothis, in the tone that says they’re going to have a capital ‘C’ Conversation. Byleth thinks back and realizes she fell for this hook, line, sinker. “Do not make fishing jokes right now. I’m trying to be serious.”

_ How a-trout that? _

“That wasn’t even  _ good _ ! Stop trying to deflect,” Sothis pulls up her robes that are drifting through the water’s surface. “I think we should consult someone better at scheming. And then we can just blitz back. Low risk, high reward.”

Byleth runs a hand through her hair. She can entertain this for a moment.  _ Who are you thinking? _

“You can’t be partial here,” She prefaces. “Think objectively.”

Byleth tilts her head. “Sure.”

“Claude.”

Byleth doesn’t even get to respond, jolting when her rod springs to life, forced to grip harder and wrestle with the fish on the other side. She wins, of course, and reels in a glittering platinum fish. She stares at it wriggling on the hook, trying to weasel out of her hands and return to the water. She drops it like a stone and watches the bright scales rocket out of view. 

Sothis is quiet. 

“Claude,” Byleth says, testing out the sound of the name as if she’s saying it aloud for the first time.

“Yes.”

“He’s smart. Too smart.” Smart enough to be a liability. 

“That’s why I’m saying we just divine pulse back. We pick an easy day, something in-class with low stress. Spring it on him then.”

“He wouldn’t believe me.”

“Make it an extra homework assignment then, all hypotheticals,” Sothis says. “Have him plan out routes.”

“He would catch on too quick.”

“Then I suppose we have to go all or nothing on it then. A secret for a secret.”

“You want to blackmail him into doing what we want? With something as integral as his heritage?” Byleth shakes her head. “He would–”

“Byleth,” Sothis interrupts. “I can almost count the days before the mission on one hand. We need to do something bold. And we need to do it fast.”

_ You’re a very interesting character, Professor _ , says Edelgard-not-El.  _ I am glad to have met you _ . 

“You know I am with you, whatever comes,” Sothis takes one of Byleth’s hands. “We will weather any storm.”

Byleth reaches for the nearest piece of divinity rumbling inside her, and the world twists into shades of purple. Time freezes. 

“Isn’t this what we planned all along?” Sothis says. “With the Alliance and Adrestia as the rallying force, we can topple the Church as we need to. Lay down the groundwork.” 

That’s true. That’s all very true. Things need to change in this timeline. She needs… Byleth needs to stop stuttering. She needs to start the ripple in the ocean. 

“I’ll think on it,” she says as a non-answer. 

Sothis grips the edge of the dock, knuckles so pale white Byleth believes it must hurt. “That’s all I can ask.”

* * *

“Okay,” says Claude, facing his assembled classmates. At his right hand, Hilda sits. Lysithea, Lorenz, Leonie are gathered around the table as well. The Golden Deer classroom is empty this late in the afternoon, between the dip between lectures and independent study, and before evening begins and the Professor returns to work at her desk. “So we have our shifts marked out. No–”

Hilda leans over on the table, holding her face with her hand. “Well, now that Lorenz is here, I feel like I can really take a step back, you know? He’s just  _ so _ capable. I don’t know if I can really stay outside for so long.”

Lysithea cuffs her on the back of the head (closer to Hilda’s nape, really, with how tiny Lysithea is, even compared to  _ Hilda _ ) and gives an unimpressed look. “Yeah, sure. No, fuck you, everyone pulls their weight. As if Lorenz could ever work a double-shift.”

Lorenz doesn’t even bother to contest with Hilda. Claude guesses this is a side-effect of growing up with her. “I am more than capable!”

Claude has to stop this momentum before it spirals out of control. “Ride or die, Hilda,” She makes a face but doesn’t comment. “And Lorenz, I don’t… doubt your capabilities. I’m sure you could. But that’s why this is a team effort. Balancing purposes.” 

Leonie nods, uncharacteristically quiet. 

  
  


They’re interrupted by a knock at the door, cutting off a loud conversation outside as Ignatz and Raphael stutter to a halt. 

“Oh… uh, hey guys,” Raphael waves. Claude thinks he waves at least, his arms are so beefy it resembles a flex more than anything. “What are all you up to?”

“Uh,” says Leonie.

“Collaborative side project,” Claude says. “We’re researching something.”

Ignatz’s eyes widen. “Are you talking about the Professor? I didn’t realize how intense this was getting.”

“Aw, man! Do you guys need any help?” Raphael flexes again. 

“Does everyone know?” That isn’t surprising, the more he thinks about it. “New question.  _ How _ do you know?”

“Oh! I heard Leonie talk about it during dinner.”

Claude whips around to Leonie. “Them too??” 

She only looks a little bit bashful about it. She really only looks coy. “I can’t help it! I’m a naturally loud person!”

He runs a hand over his face. Maybe the Professor can walk in next and they can just bare it all out in the open. Something close to that almost happens. A blur of blue passes behind Raphael and Ignatz, the former’s massive frame almost obscuring it completely. His heart jumps at his throat as Raphael follows his eyes and turns around. Goddess, Claude can hear the smile on his face from here. “Great! Hi, Marianne! Now the whole house is here!”

She says something in response, but her already soft voice can’t even hope to carry this far in. He swallows a sigh and gets out of his seat to stand in the doorway.

Marianne stares down at the floor, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. “I– I’m sorry to interrupt all of you. I only came back to check my desk, I’ll leave now.”

“Nah, Marianne, you’ve gotta stay now! We’re all talking about the Professor.”

It is a testament to Claude’s patience that he doesn’t jump up to strangle Raphael before he can get another word out.

She still doesn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry… I can’t, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

Claude smiles. “Hey, there’s never any trouble here,” he winks for emphasis, and there’s a round of laughter from behind him. Great. “Even if there is, everyone knows it wouldn’t be your fault. And c’mon! Team bonding!”

Lorenz scoffs. Claude can hear him flip his hair. “Leave it to heir von Riegan to call scheming  _ bonding _ .”

“You came to me first,” says Claude, shrugging.

Raphael pushes Marianne through the doorway and suddenly Claude has seven pairs of eyes on him, waiting for his lead. He could get used to this. He’s Claude von Riegan, and more resourceful than the Professor can imagine. She can try to hide all she wants. He’s going to rip her apart.

* * *

Sothis flies behind Byleth, and though she can’t see her, she guesses Sothis has some expression of concern on her face. Sothis sighs and pats her back.

“Where are we going?”

“Training grounds.”

Sothis sighs again for emphasis. “Are you sure?”

“I need to think,” she mumbles under her breath. Prep work. She needs to hype herself up.

She tears through the first dummy without any thinking at all, actually. Granted, it was a glorified bag of straw (no point in wasting the good ones), but her wooden sword was dulled to the point of it being more stick than sword, so she chalks it up as a win. 

After that, she does sets. Simple exercises she picked up from her time in the Empire, from swordsmen with more formal education. The familiar movement calms her even if she barely understands the more practical benefits. Maybe she’ll read up and present something like this to her class. Her thoughts flow too smooth;y from the class to Claude.

She pulls out another dummy and swings. She imagines it as a whole slew of people: Solon, Kronya, even Rhea for a moment.

Sothis is leaning on her hand, sitting in her periphery. “Feeling better?”

Byleth takes a moment to breathe in silence. No meddlesome students, no looming war. Silence, even if just for a moment.

“Yes,” she says. “Tonight. We’ll do it tonight.”

* * *

Claude is halfway down the hall when movement outside the window catches his eye: the telltale dark cape of the Professor off through the Monastery grounds again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he should probably head to bed. But… 

Claude  _ really _ wants to get to the bottom of this mess. 

He doubles back and drops the bulkiest of the leather outside Hilda’s dorm, then sprints down the stairs and out into the night. Fódlan’s nightlife chirps and buzzes even inside Garreg Mach’s walls. He spares no time to drink it in though; he’s a man on a mission. He traces the Professor’s path until they’re a hedge away. 

He focuses less on watching her through the leaves once he realizes she’s muttering to herself. 

But… is she? 

He can’t hear any other voices, but there are definitely pauses before she seemingly responds. He doesn’t realize how far he’s leaned into the bush to hear her until he falls through the leaves.

The Professor draws her sword. “Hello?”

Claude weighs his options. Would he rather live with the shame of getting caught or submit to getting skewered?

“Hey, Teach,” he says. 

He doesn’t hear any movement until she’s around the hedge and looking down at him. “Claude.”

“Professor.”

She narrows her eyes. “You should be in bed.”

“Really? I didn’t– ” He makes the mistake of shrugging, and a branch cuts into his back. He smothers a curse and jumps up, throwing himself into the Professor’s space. 

He distantly hears the sword clatter to the ground, but it’s a bit inconsequential as she catches him in her arms. 

He blinks up at her for several seconds, face warming, as she looks at him blankly. 

Then she drops him unceremoniously onto the ground and leans down to recover her sword. 

The most fascinating thing about the Professor is that he can't figure out what makes her tick. She wears a heavy coat over a self born of secrets. All he knows are the vague details of where the Blade Breaker says she came from and the most insignificant things he's forced out of her by following her across the monastery.

“Claude,” she says. There's a long enough period of silence that follows that Claude thinks he might have missed his cue, but when he opens his mouth to respond, she cuts him off. “If I said something crazy, would you believe me?”

“Depends on how far you go,” he says honestly. “I draw the line at being the Goddess, but you could be descended royalty.” 

“Hypothetically…”

“Hypothetically,” he repeats.

She shakes her head. Something flashes in her eyes, and  _ Nope! Not getting out of this one, Teach! _ He jumps up just to throw his body at her to send both of them tumbling back down on the pavement. 

She looks up at him, face neutral, but there’s something in her eyes he can’t explain. “Why did you follow us to Zanado?”

He feels hungry, starving suddenly that he’s so close. “ _ Us _ ?”

The Professor’s eyes go wide, but her tone stays even. “Why did you follow me to Zanado?”

“You know this already,” Claude can give her this, he needs answers. “I’ve been tailing you for weeks.  _ We’ve  _ been tailing you for weeks. I saw you leave the Monastery and wouldn’t leave it like that. It was Hilda’s idea to bring the rest of the class, though.”

“What do you know about the Crest of Flames?” she asks softly.

He doesn’t need to think for even a moment. He didn’t read up on so much of Fódlan’s history for nothing. “It’s the crest of Nemesis. It augments physical power and feeds energy to the crest-bearer.”

“Yes,” says the Professor. “And it can rewind time.”

“ _ Excuse me?” _

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares relentlessly up at him, then: “I’ve watched you die.”

He blinks, halfway starts to respond before she continues. 

“Stabbed, shot, cleaved… so many times that I’m numb to any grief from it,” The Professor stares, unmoving, up at him. “It’s a temporary roadblock. And I know it’ll happen again.”

He doesn’t understand.

“I wish I was lying,” she laughs, and it looks so alien on her tired features he gets whiplash. “It would be so much easier if I were lying. I can rewind time.”

Claude pulls back, the enormity of the situation crashing down on him. Distantly he wonders if he’s about to wake up.

“Not here,” he forces himself to stand again, while his thoughts are half-baked at best. “We can’t talk here. The classroom.”

The Professor seems to get the memo. She leads him over, then unlocks the heavy doors and waves him in before closing and locking them again. 

Trapped inside. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

The earlier spell broken, Claude has started to feel the awkwardness of the situation sink in. He doesn’t let it bother him, now that they’re over the first hurdle. “So how far in the future did you come from?” 

“I can only rewind in short stints,” the Professor replies. Interesting. “Around a dozen times a day.”

He stares her down, but she betrays nothing in her expression, and if they weren’t here now, he might’ve thought he imagined what happened earlier. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Several years after the school year ended,” She relents. 

“It’s bad, then?”

“Worse than you can imagine.”

Claude hums a low note, contemplative. “Alright. I– yeah, alright. I guess,” He brushes his hair out of his eyes and pulls out the chalkboard for lectures. “That tracks. What do you remember? We need to make a timeline.”

“You– ” The Professor furrows her brow. “You believe me?”

He hurriedly clears off the notes scribbled on from the previous lecture. “I mean, I don't really know. It's one hell of a ruse, I'll give you that much, Teach.”

“Yet..?” 

“I just,” Claude feels a bit lost for words, for once. But the feeling is undeniable, “Something about you just makes me want to trust you, I suppose.”

She takes a breath, slow and shaky. “It started in Remire, two months ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter: written  
> the dynamic: established  
> we ride at dawn
> 
> anyway thank yall for reading!! i have the next batch of chapters written but i need to edit them too lol. leave me a comment or kudos i thrive on attention, and stay safe!!


	3. Chapter 3

_The only person I could rely on as I tried to claw my way out of the darkness was myself. But you... you have been a brilliant light. Somehow, you have chased the darkness away._

* * *

When Byleth awakens, it’s with an overwhelming sense of dread weighing on her shoulders. She jolts awake while Sothis blinks wearily a few moments after. They’re still in the classroom. Byleth takes a moment to collect herself as memories of the night before flood back.

Right.

The culmination of everything sits in front of her, a chalkboard covered front to back with scribblings. And Claude passed out in the chair in front of it, the frame of it pushing against his face awkwardly. The early dawn light falls in beams through the curtains and over his sleeping form. 

Claude von Riegan is somewhat remarkable in the way he finds the imperfections in a person and pushes relentlessly until he gets what he wants. As much as she tried to fight it, he’s been on to her since the very first evening in Remire. 

Every moment passing in this little bubble of time at the monastery feels like a betrayal to El. Regardless, she has to persevere. She’ll do whatever it takes. 

So where does she start?

Sothis hovers above her, peeking through the windows above. “You’ll have to erase the board for sure.”

Byleth blinks more awake. Holy shit, _the board_. 

On it is the most detailed approximation of what’s to come. Claude barely blinked at the grittier specifics and he took the imminent betrayals with stride, only nodding and dutifully writing. Byleth suspects he was equal parts exhausted and hungry for an explanation. When she noticed his hands trembling from overwork, she took over, and they finished late in the night–or in the earliest of the morning, depending on your look at it. 

She told him as much as she needed to. About the school year, but nothing after. At least, no details outside of what she remembers of Hubert’s notes on various Agarthian bases. They wouldn't have to worry about what came after. 

When Byleth checks her hands, they’re still caked with chalk. She suspects Claude isn’t much better. 

She definitely didn’t get enough sleep. She tests out her magic, reaching for a divine pulse. A purple glow resonates from her chest. Magic gathers and she rubber bands backward through time. She doesn’t immediately release from the spell, giving herself a moment to wander in the slick in-between of seconds. She’s next to Claude again, in the doorway of the Golden Deer classroom. 

Not quite right then, but she’s close. 

She pushes the magic further, stretching a couple of minutes further back, except… 

“Ah,” Byleth says. This can’t be good. There’s a block. Something tangible, keeping her trapped in the moment and not letting her travel further. 

Sothis frowns. “Hm,” she shakes her hands out and raises them, palms up, magic extending in intricate circles from her being. She somehow frowns harder. “I can’t break through. What the fuck.”

Byleth grabs her hand and channels her energy into the spell. Still, nothing. The darkness festers around them, and she realizes (maybe for the first time in a _long_ time) that they are running out of time.

“What the fuck!!” Sothis repeats as Byleth retracts the power to return them to the classroom.

_What do you think is happening?_

“We’re low on power. Or there’s a hard limit. _Or_ someone is here _enforcing_ a hard limit.”

Byleth frowns. _Those who slither in the dark this early in the timeline?_

“Or the church,” she makes a disgusted face. “Rhea?”

_It might not be intentional but… Rhea, possibly._

They’ll have to look into it. Byleth remembers scrounging through the Monastery with Lindhart, looking for any of Rhea’s mad scribblings left behind, And without the years of decay, she’s certain they’ll be able to turn something more substantial. Her Lindhart would have a field day with this.

But she has to focus because now she’s restrained to a couple options in this little divot between moments. She can relive one of the most draining nights of her life, get even _more_ exhausted, or just continue through the morning. 

“Or,” Sothis says, crossing her arms. “You can time travel midway through the night and get some more rest.”

Byleth releases the spell, dropping them both back into the Golden Deer classroom in the early dawn light. 

(Sothis sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know what I expected.”)

“Up,” she kicks Claude’s chair without warning, startling him awake.

He blinks in surprise, but she can see him calculate where they are the same as she had. 

“Good morning,” he says, then lets a lazy grin fall over his face, “Sure we can’t have the day off, Teach?”

She scoffs. “It’ll be suspicious if our little outing ended with us taking a day of rest, but...” she coughs. “Maybe we won’t have especially hands-on classes.”

“Fair enough,” his eyes catch on the chalkboard, but his face stays stubbornly still, “Definitely not a dream, then?”

“Something like that,” she retrieves the rag and bucket. “Anything you want before it goes?”

“One second,” he pats himself down once before retrieving a small leather notebook from under his layered shirts. 

Byleth squints at him, and Sothis lounges across the air from behind. “Giving us a show, huh?” 

Byleth fixes her with a look while she cackles. 

“Done,” Claude says as he hides the notebook away. He nods at her. “Do your worst.”

* * *

After getting his plate of breakfast, Claude drops into the chair next to Hilda. “Either the Professor’s gone crazy or she’s pulling the scam of the century.”

Hilda blinks at him. “It’s too early for this.”

Claude almost laughs. But if he hadn’t had her attention before, he’s surely got it now. 

“Maybe we should cool down for a little bit? Lie low?” Ignatz proposes. 

Leonie groans. “Fuck off, I want to know where she came from, too,” she points her fork at Claude. “Tell me if you find anything.”

“Of course,” He flashes a smile. Oh, and he knows he’s never gonna tell the rest of Golden Deer anything. He’s still wrapping his head around the situation and knows a group this big won’t be able to keep a secret. Everything is overwhelming to consider and the only way he’s found to dodge being overwhelmed is to keep planning.

He digs into his meal while the rest of the house filter in as the sun crests the monastery walls. Yesterday was long, both from staying up and the bombshell after bombshell of information. He barely hears the table’s conversation anymore, trapping himself into contemplating the crisis on how to fix what’s to come. 

He watches as the Professor enters from across the dining hall, meeting her eye knowingly. There’s part of a conversation in that as they telegraph half-baked thoughts at each other, but mostly he just feels a certain camaraderie in their shared exhaustion. 

Today’s class is notably low-key, thank the Goddess. Claude’s glad the Professor kept to her word. He crashes in the afternoon to nap between classes. For once, it’s vice versa, Hilda comes in to wake _him_ up.

He ends up seeking the Professor out after class ends for the evening. He finds her on the outskirts of the monastery, where the gravestones are lain out under the setting sun 

“Evening, Professor,” he greets.

There's an uncanny gap between them that light words can't fill anymore, a secret bearing down on both of their shoulders.

She tilts her head towards him, steely eyes glinting, “Good evening. I suppose you’re here to discuss what we’re to do?”

“I’m that transparent, huh?” 

“When you want to be.”

He smiles. “Do you want my ideas or not?”

She leans against the stone balcony, expectant.

He takes a breath. Well, there’s no time like the present. “I think we should kill this Solon guy.”

The Professor doesn’t answer, just blinks thoughtfully at him. 

“We have to force them to show their hand,” Claude says, mind bounding ahead. “It’s the quickest way for sure. And we have what, two weeks?”

She frowns. “I feel like the Church would certainly notice.”

“It’ll get the Church off our backs too, they can’t ignore Tomas’ disappearance on top of a shady body showing up,” he traces the weight of the notebook tucked against his breast, “And Rhea will recognize the Agarthians’ presence for sure.”

The Professor stays quiet for a moment. “Drastic measures will force things to change prematurely. We don’t know for sure whose death will impact what as of now.”

He groans. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. We have to push _something._ Do you want Lonato dead, or..?”

She bristles. “We’ll figure it out another way. I don’t want to risk early intervention from the Empire.”

“It’ll take a long time to mobilize their troops. The process has at least started by now, but barely enough to consider it a rising threat. We can do this, Teach,” He puts on his reliable house-leader voice, the one he uses to reassure his jumpier classmates. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Bad move. Just like that, whatever part of the Professor’s vulnerability she showed last night has completely vanished, her face turned blank as a slate. “I’m not afraid.”

“You are,” he says. She’s never been especially expressive, but he can see the dawning realization behind her eyes. “That’s why you haven’t changed anything yet.”

The Professor reminds him of a wild animal, angering and puffing up like an exotic bird when it’s threatened. He’s hit a nerve, one she probably didn’t realize she had. She scoffs. “I don’t want your comfort. I want you to strategize.”

“I gave you an idea,” he points out. “You just didn’t like it.”

“And you don’t have any others?”

“None that you’ll like,” he says honestly. “Not while you’re like this.”

She stares at him for a long moment, something calculating in her eyes that he can’t read. 

“This conversation is over,” she gets off the wall. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

Claude lets her brush past him, in the direction of the training grounds. 

* * *

One of the more difficult parts of teaching the Golden Deer is the new birthdays to be remembered. Byleth is not the first to admit she has difficulty remembering dates. Some kind soul has them already penciled into the Monastery calendar. She gets up too late to really intake every detail. 

She got lucky with Sylvain because he has never been one for subtly and announced it to anyone within hearing distance. But that hardly matters because he isn't in her house anymore. 

Arguably, the same logic could be applied to Lorenz. He certainly doesn’t keep quiet about it. The days seem to bleed into each other too fast, and suddenly it is the thirteenth and he looks expectantly at her.

Byleth has never been one for eloquence.

_Fuck._

“Of course I remembered,” she says instead. Sothis laughs, the traitor. “I bought tea for it.”

His face lights up. “Truly?”

She feels bad about lying, but better after he starts prattling on about his arduous duties as a noble. She misses Dorothea, who was always there to shut Ferdinand up when he was like this. Instead, she nods and smiles appropriately, but gives him a chilling look when he goes too far.

“I just don’t think it’s possible for a lady to find me irritating–” he meets her eyes and stops promptly. He coughs. “I feel as though I have overstayed my welcome.”

“It’s fine,” she gestures vaguely, mostly because she’s lost for words. She tends not to talk that much during these things. “Just, uh… less mild sexism.”

Sothis laughs but without as much humor. “You’re really exhausted, huh?”

Lorenz speaks again, but he talks over Sothis while she finishes. “Are you alright, Professor? You’ve seemed rather stressed lately.”

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He sips his tea. “Well, you went on a suicide mission, _alone_. That seems cause enough for alarm.”

Byleth shrugs. “It wasn’t a suicide mission.”

“What else would you call it?” 

“Simple practice, Lorenz,” she says as a warning. “It’s your birthday, not mine. Why don’t we talk about you instead?”

“Never thought you’d have to beg him,” Sothis says. “But honestly he’s–”

He cuts her off again. “Professor, you know we care about you, right?”

The cynical part of her wonders if Claude put him up to this, and if her other students are listening in. He’s been keeping his distance all day, but Byleth knows he’s planning something or other. 

Sothis nudges her out of her thoughts. Lorenz is still waiting on an answer.

“Of course. I care about you all as well.”

He frowns. “Then you should let us help you.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” She’s tired, so very tired. He’s silent for a moment too long and she stands, pushing away her chair with ease. “I’ll see you in class later, then.”

He lets her go, but as she rounds the corner she hears scrambling and finds most of her class fallen into the hedge. She counts heads. Leonie, Raphael, Ignatz, and Lysithea. A suspicious lack of their house leader. 

She looks back at Lorenz, who freezes now that the jig is up. 

She goes. 

* * *

Here is where Claude’s sure he’s fucked up: the cemetery and the Professor’s dead-end eyes. 

The Professor’s pragmatic, sure. He’s playing a dangerous game trying to appeal to her emotional side. There’s not a lot that seems to affect her as much as her students. He knows, without a doubt, that that is the best way to get to her. Lorenz is a dangerous gambit. He’s not likable, per se, but he tends to be in the right place at the right time. 

Maybe it was too dangerous a risk. Maybe Claude fucked up (he’s certain he fucked up).

He hasn’t seen her since yesterday. He might be avoiding her, she might be avoiding him; who’s to say?

Some of the moodier pegasi below him kick at the barn’s supports and he has to hunker down as the structure jostles. 

He likes hiding out in the stables when he doesn’t want to be found. He’s shit at climbing, but the Fódlan architecture is blocky enough he can crawl up the wooden support beams almost like a ladder and have a small alcove between an odd stall and the exterior all to himself.

And hearing the loud conversations of riders intermittent with the animals calms him, reminds him of home. If he dozes off enough he can almost imagine the language shifting into something more familiar.

He isn’t reaching for anything like that right now. Right now, he’s allowing himself to have a crisis. 

He flips through his notebook. Everything he has written inside it is in an intimate code he’s kept up since he was small. He doubts anyone Fódlanese could read it anyway because it’s an encrypted version of Almyran words. Nevertheless, better safe than sorry.

He thumbs through old pages to find the Professor’s own dedicated section. He wrote in it during that night, but the scribbled notes at the end help him the most. It’s a small list of everything he knows that can shake her. It’s small and concise but it does more than enough for his purposes. He reads the lines over and over again as a half-reassurance to calm himself. 

It’ll work. He has to trust himself.

* * *

Byleth heads to training grounds again, her predictability making her steam even more. The physical release of tension is too tempting over all her alternatives. There’s nothing else to do, and she’s sick of sitting around.

Some days, she wishes she could return to that certain detachment. But no, she’s trapped in a jumbled up mess of feelings. Not the good ones, either. 

“Hey, don’t think like that,” Sothis says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’re taking steps forward.”

Byleth unsheathes the dagger from her belt and tosses it between her hands. _Hopefully_.

Maybe she can run through her forms again, or luck out and find someone there to spar against. She’s feeling lucky, today.

Jeritza is there when she enters, but he completely ignores her. Byleth knows him too well and is sure he’s doing it on principle. They never really got along but there was some sort of camaraderie in their shared might. He was definitely a valued ally. She knows that he would never go turncoat on El, though. 

Whatever, she supposes. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to her, so she won’t talk to him. She goes through her sets again and tries not to roll her eyes when Jeritza tries and fails to pretend he isn’t watching. After a while though, things get boring. She’s halfway to pulling out a training dummy when Jeritza finally snaps.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

Byleth narrows her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Those sets. They’re from the Empire, aren’t they?” 

She wants to scream. _He’s_ the one who taught her most of them, “What.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” he repeats. Then draws his sword and swings it out in a practiced motion. 

She can tell he balances differently, that’s obvious enough. But she’s spent over a year working with him, and she can tell he’s _smug_ about it. Maybe he’s trying to rile her up. 

“He’s still an asshole,” Sothis says lazily. Then she perks up, “You should beat the shit out of him.”

Byleth likes this line of thinking. She pulls out her own blade again and repeats the motion, sword hitting his own with an unsubtle _clang_.

Something ignites behind his eyes, “Is that some sort of challenge?”

“If you want it to be,” she says, “Do you want a spar? One to one?”

He readies himself, balance shifting. “Till one of us yields, then.”

It won’t be an easy win, that’s for sure. She can shit-talk all she wants but above all, Jeritza is a master swordsman. He’s good at fighting, whether it be lancework or a sword. She’s better though. She learned from the best.

It’s a steady push-and-pull as he goes on the offensive and she dances around his strikes. She aims low, hoping to unbalance him and gain an upper hand. He’s predictable because she’s fought against and alongside him for so long, he can only hope to determine any sort of upper hand for himself. Or at least, that’s what she thinks. 

He manages to disarm her, forcing the sword out of her hand, looking triumphant. She rears back a fist and punches him hard in the face. Her glove comes back bloody and his face does not look pretty. She doesn't waste a moment though, shoving him down and forcing his sword from him. 

He’s on the ground, his own sword in her hand and pointed at his neck when he gives in.

“I yield,” he spits out. 

It’s quiet again, in the training grounds. She doesn’t linger in it, offering her hand to Jeritza. He doesn’t take it, but she hadn’t really expected him to. 

He wipes his face on the front of his shirt and, yeah, his nose is probably broken, “You fight dirty.”

“I can fix that,” Faith magic tingles on the tips of her fingers.

“I’ll find Manuela,” He pulls himself back up, but it looks like a trip and a half. 

“I can realign a nose,” Byleth reaches for Jeritza’s face. He jerks away to stay out of reach.

“I’m good,” he finally gets up and leaves for the infirmary. She doesn’t try to stop him. 

She wipes the blood on her gauntlets off on her shirt. Sothis groans, but it’s already dark in color so the mark is hardly noticeable.

“Holy shit!!”

She whips around, but it’s only Caspar. Ha, _only_ Caspar. She missed him (like she misses all of them) like a growing pain, dragging on all her bones and muscles. 

“Holy shit!” he says again, with equal excitement.

“Hello,” Byleth says, because she doesn’t have much to say. 

“Can you teach me that?!”

“Ah,” This was meant to be an aside, to not focus on teaching for a moment. But, “Sure,” she readjusts her balance. “You need to keep your weight centered. Like this.”

He follows suit, but he’s crouching too low to the ground. Byleth frowns. Caspar never listens, he prefers to learn hands-on. Alright, then. She sweeps her leg under him, knocking him over in a single blow, then holds the brass gauntlet to his head. 

“Switch up your balance. Keep it versatile, or you won’t be able to land a hit before the enemy.”

He scrambles back up, grinning widely.

They trade blows. Overall, she has the upper hand for most of the exchange, but Caspar certainly improves quickly. He favors his right too much, and doesn’t keep his feet light enough to move out of the way in time. It’s a problem he had before, probably from all the axe training. 

It's nice teaching someone so wholly predictable, who she knows their strengths and weaknesses so dearly. 

She mostly teaches him some basic exercises, along with correcting his footing over and over again. By the end of it, there’s a tangible difference, and Byleth feels a strange lightness in her chest.

“Thank you, Professor!” Caspar says. “This is loads better than Manuela and Hanneman. Or Jeritza!”

She smiles. “I’m glad to be of help.”

“I’m still disappointed you didn't teach the ’Beagles,” he sighs.

Byleth squints for a moment, trying to think of what a dog has to do with any of this. 

“Black eagles. B-eagles. Beagles,” Sothis says amusedly, settling her elbow on Byleth’s shoulder now that combat has stalled to a stop. 

Byleth nods in thanks. She remembers Caspar’s silly little nicknames for things, but beagles is a fresh one. 

“I’m sorry,” Byleth says, because there's nothing else to say. The fierce feeling of betrayal weighs on her bones, still dragging after her.

But it’s all for the cause.

He laughs. “Nah, don’t worry, there's no need to apologize!”

She wants to ask him to join her class. To come home.

But she can’t. 

He glances at the sky, darkening into a full orange and red blend. “ _Shit_ , sorry, Professor! I need to go! Thank you again!!”

Byleth waves him off. “Good luck.”

He waves goodbye and goes sprinting out the training hall door. She stands there dumbly for a moment before realization comes kicking in. She feels better. Better for the first time in months. 

Goddess, she needs to talk to Claude again, doesn’t she? Byleth pushes her hair back. It’s getting too long again. “What time is it?”

“Just after dinner,” Sothis supplies. “We might be able to catch him before he turns in for the night.”

She drops her training sword back into its crate and takes Sothis’s extended hand to walk out into the open evening. 

She navigates to the mess hall easily, coming out from behind the Golden Deer table. They’re huddled up into a circle by the end of it. She skirts around the edges and only picks up their low mumbling before Ignatz spots her.

Everyone turns to look at her and idly she is reminded of a flower blooming.

Claude is with them now, and he has the good sense to look sheepish. He waves. “Hi, Professor.”

Leonie cuffs him on the back of the head. “Shut up, you're the one who’s pissed her off.”

Lorenz stands up a little straighter but still avoids her eyes. “My apologies for earlier. I admit I was… in on the plan.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “I can commend your teamwork, at least. Just don’t do it again.”

Leonie leers down Claude, who coughs into his hand. “Sorry for spying on you, Professor.”

“You orchestrated everything?” she expected as much, in all seriousness.

“Something like that,” There’s a knowing look in his eyes when their gazes meet. She wonders what he’s thinking. “I’m not too sorry, though. You look a lot better.”

Leonie massages her temples. “What’s the point of apologizing if you take it back right after?” 

Hilda points her fork at her. “Hey, at least he admits it.”

Leonie opens her mouth again and Byleth decides she needs to step in or this conversation will spiral into something else. “Thank you all for your concern.”

“But don’t try it again?” Claude offers.

“But don’t try it again,” Byleth replies. 

Claude shrugs. “Hey, I think we did what we needed to do. Hope you’re feeling more amiable, at least.”

There’s something electric passing between them, something she can’t describe with words. She’s certain the rest of her students can feel it too. 

Sothis nudges her. “You still need to eat.” 

Byleth nods and leaves for the kitchen, ignoring the explosion of noise behind her as the Golden Deer bombard Claude for an explanation. 

* * *

Byleth crouches low under the hedge, silent as night as she waits for Tomas to wander by. It started this morning when Claude smiled at her for finally agreeing.

“So how are we gonna do this?”

He smiled again, more sinister. “Well, I’ve been following his schedule.”

She forces herself not to roll her eyes at that. Maybe she would’ve preferred he pretended he didn’t plan all this from the start. At least he’s on her side. 

Using a sword or a bow would be somewhat telling since the monastery knows their weapons of choice. The familiar sensation of fire magic collects on her fingertips, but she snuffs it out. She needs to wait. 

Sothis sits atop the bush as lookout, quietly bemoaning the dull waiting period. Byleth stays crouched, eyes on the path ahead. Time is tricky, like this. Every moment feels like an hour and every hour feels like a blink of an eye. She hates waiting. She’d rather be on the battlefield a hundred more times to avoid this, as necessary as it may be.

Sothis groans loudly. “How long has it been?”

_A few minutes_.

“Oh, hush! It’s certainly been way longer than that.”

Byleth doesn’t bother to repress a smile. _Are you sure?_

Sothis squawks. “You’re going to tease me like this? Really?”

Byleth grins harder, her face feeling strained. 

“I’m pleased to see you happier, at least,” Sothis says. “How are you feeling?”

_Good. Better now. How are you?_

_  
_She can tell Sothis is smiling even without seeing her. “Better too, I think. Ready to kick some ass.”

She huffs a laugh. Yeah, she agrees.

When Tomas walks by after the moon is well in the sky, Byleth tackles him to the ground, surprise along with her already greater strength allowing her to easily overpower him. 

She doesn't bother talking to him. There's nothing he could say that she didn't already know, and Thales didn’t trust him enough to tell him anything she didn’t.

She activates _Bolganone_ with her hand gripped around his throat and really, he didn’t stand a chance. It’s satisfying, especially after all the shit he pulled (or would pull?) in Remire. 

The cutthroat efficiency reminds her of another day, along the Empire’s coastline with Petra and Bernadetta. Dodging through the forest against deadlier foes. It's nostalgic in a way. Not as insidious as before, but with a sweeter aftertaste. 

She leaves the body out in the middle of the pass, strewn out between the Dining Hall and the classrooms. 

* * *

Leonie drops down on the bench. “So did y’all hear about the murder last night?” 

Claude scans the Dining Hall. It has _never_ been this bustling in the morning. It gets pretty busy as the sun starts to rise, but now it’s over thrice as busy. _Everyone’s_ abuzz, all gossiping. He conceals his smile by taking a drink from his glass.

“Who hasn’t?” Hilda rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her cup. 

Leonie leans in closer, to talk in a hushed tone. “Do you think it was related to the Professor?” 

“We’ve never seen her use magic. And no fire magic either. And from what _I_ heard, the guy was burnt to a crisp,” Claude points out. “I doubt she’s hiding away some high-power firepower after this long.”

Marianne looks off to the side. “I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt…”

Hilda nudges her shoulder. “Don’t worry! I’ll protect you from any fire-breathing murderers.”

Lorenz crosses his arms. “What about the rest of us?”

“ _You_ can get burnt to a crisp,” she says with equal enthusiasm. Leonie chokes on her drink. 

Lysithea brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “All of you are acting too childish about this. We–”

Claude swipes a biscuit off of her plate. “What? Are you worried some fire-breathing ghost is gonna come get you?”

“We have a mission coming up,” Lysithea says, eyes narrowing on his steal. “We have to stay focused.”

“Have you guys heard yet?” Ignatz appears with his own plate of food, Raphael behind him with easily quadruple that, and already with bacon stuffed in his mouth. 

“About the murder?” Leonie asks. “Yeah, everyone’s talking about it.”

They slide into the empty space next to her and Ignatz keeps talking. “No one has been able to find Tomas, either. I wonder what’s happening.”

Hilda takes her own biscuit in hand and points it for emphasis. “Look. There’s only one fire mage at this table. I’m not saying it was Lorenz, _but_ …”

Lorenz barks. “ _Excuse me?!_ ”

Leonie bursts out laughing. “What, are you seriously considering Lorenz committed _murder_?”

Claude smiles and has to start eating again to stay out of the conversation, trying not to get too drunk off of victory before hearing of the Knight’s reaction. 

* * *

The Monastery has been abuzz since Solon’s body was discovered this morning. Byleth avoided the Dining Hall at breakfast to escape the gossip. 

She’s seen Claude in passing, but they haven’t talked yet. There’s been an uneasy air between them as they wait for the Church’s response. Rhea’s response. 

She gets it soon. By noon, Rhea summons Byleth to her receiving chambers outside her office. 

“Regretfully, Catherine will not be joining you for this month’s mission,” Rhea looks almost disappointed. “A mysterious body appearing on the monastery grounds is more than a cause for alarm. The Knights will need her talents for the investigation.”

Byleth has to restrain herself from laughing in triumph. Sothis is not confined to such limits and excitedly bounds around the room. 

“However, I may still send some of the junior knights with you –”

Byleth’s heart falls to her stomach. _No! They were so close!_

Thankfully, Seteth cuts in. “Lady Rhea, I think it is hardly necessary to split up our manpower more than necessary.”

Byleth nods quickly. “I'm best equipped to lead a smaller unit, and Jeralt left the mercenaries with me for this month's mission.”

Rhea purses her lips into a thin line. 

“They won’t even meet with a large force of the rebellion. It was clean-up work to begin with,” Seteth adds. “There are bigger issues to worry about, now.”

There’s an underlying worry in his words. Something they _obviously_ can’t talk about while she’s in the room. But she already knows. Goddess, she _knows_.

Byleth stifles a smile and finds it much harder than usual.

* * *

Claude waits outside the stairs up to the Archbishop’s Chamber, trying desperately to keep cool. He’s stopped pacing for now and leans against the wall, watching the passersby.

He hears the Professor before he sees her, which is a major change from what he’s used to. She practically runs down the steps to meet him.

When she’s finally here, she’s _smiling_. Smiling! Looking the happiest he’s ever seen her!

She places a hand on his shoulder. “Claude, we _did it_.”

He’s immediately aware of how close they are, warmth flooding to his face. She lets go and leads them out of the Reception Hall and Claude is helpless but to follow. 

“So it worked?”

She nods excitedly. “It’ll be just our class. The Knights are going to search the Sealed Forest to see if the culprit escaped Garreg Mach entirely.”

Claude lets himself smile a little, too. “So we’re kicking training up a notch?”

“Yes,” she opens the classroom doors. They started class later today, thanks to Rhea’s summonings. “We barely have two weeks and you all made a mess out of Zanado,” she mulls by herself. “I’ll draft more personalized training plans.”

“A mess, huh?”

“You wouldn’t be involved in this nonsense had the battle been easy,” the Professor says and, yeah, that makes sense. He had guessed the Professor wouldn’t have told him if she had the choice. 

“Did we really push your time-traveling limit?” he asks, amused. 

“Only able to do it a certain amount of times per day,” she shrugs. “And you’re all… somewhat lacking in self-defense.”

“You're our teacher, it’s almost your fault,” he points out. 

The Professor gives him a look that has him immediately apologizing. Then the rest of the Golden Deer start to filter in, ready to start the lesson. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🦀 Lonato time 🦀
> 
> also caspar gets a cameo because i love him :)  
> there are parts of this chapter im still unhappy with but i am going to stick to semi-regular updates so!! here it is. byleth gets an angst break in the final half & im very happy for her. please comment/kudos if u enjoyed!! i thrive off of feedback <3


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